


Domesticity

by Miso



Category: SCTV (Canada TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 09:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10987695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miso/pseuds/Miso
Summary: Floyd always had a dream about marrying a nice man that baked.





	Domesticity

**Author's Note:**

> OOPSIE DAISY. based on an idea brainstormed by myself and the lovely blossomtime (as usual) literally earlier today!!! :P i'm probably going to delve more into floyd's idea of the american dream [tm]. as for the marrying part of the summary, well... maybe someday! ;D

Floyd slumped against his front door with a groan, rubbing his temples. He'd never realized just how hard Earl had it before. Weekend newscasts were murder on his brain, his feet, his sleep schedule, his sanity. There wasn't much left of the latter, anyway, but he was pretty sure he'd felt 10 years come off his lifespan in the hours he'd put in.

Another 5 dropped off when he was accosted almost immediately by an overly-cheerful Earl. "Hey, baby!" he chirped, pressing a kiss to Floyd's cheek. "How was your day?"

"Fucking murder." Floyd kicked off his shoes without untying them, slid off his jacket, and unbuttoned his vest. "Jesus. I'm sorry, doll, but I'm never fucking volunteering to take your weekend shifts again. I feel like I need a 12 hour nap." Sliding his vest off and loosening his tie, Floyd stood up on sore feet. "I'm gonna go change."

"Don't take a 12 hour nap. I did something special for you." Floyd stopped mid-stride and turned to give Earl a curious look that turned into one of mild alarm when he noticed Earl was covered in white dust that he hoped was flour. "Good to know I have your attention," Earl quipped, a smile playing at his lips. "Go ahead and change. Just don't fall asleep."

Saying nothing, Floyd just shook his head as he shut the bedroom door behind him. Tossing his work clothes into a disorderly pile (Earl would probably give him hell for it later, but he didn't really care) and changing into his after-work standard of faded jeans and a t-shirt worn to a familiar, comforting softness that he couldn't help but noticed smelled a lot like Earl, Floyd tried to contemplate what the hell Earl had meant. Something special. What could he have done that was special? Earl was the sweetest guy on Earth, but he had no discernible domestic talents at all, and the fact that he was wearing that silly-looking, ruffly apron he'd gotten as a hand-me-down from Zippy that read "kiss the cook" in pink cursive (giving her only son something so ridiculous was exactly Zipporah Camembert's sense of humor, Floyd had learned) and covered in flour pointed to him cooking something.

The house was still standing, so Earl was already batting a thousand when it came to defying Floyd's expectations. Still thinking as he padded down the hall, he paused as the smell of something baked hit his nose. Earl baked? And the kitchen wasn't a smoldering pile of ash and rubble? What kind of bizarro universe had he crossed into? The smell of cinnamon was so strong he wondered how he hadn't noticed it the second he came home. (Then again, he thought, he'd also failed to notice Earl in an apron and covered in flour.)

Floyd cautiously peeked into the kitchen, where Earl was busying himself with wiping up a mess of flour and sugar from the counter. Sat on the island was a beautiful-looking, perfectly golden-brown cake, dusted with powdered sugar and dotted with cherries as toppings. Confused and flattered, Floyd stepped into the kitchen and took a moment to just take in what he was seeing. "... What did you do...?"

"I thought you'd be kind of tired when you got home," Earl began, rinsing out the washcloth that was by now saturated with wet flour and sugar, "so I thought I'd dig out one of my mom's old recipes and see if I could make it." He smiled warmly at his partner. "Go ahead and have a piece. I figured you'd probably appreciate something to snack on."

The smell of it alone was enough to make Floyd's mouth water. He found the watering of his eyes more concerning at the moment. Earl paused when he noticed Floyd on the verge of tears and said, softly, "... Did I do something wrong?"

"No, doll, you didn't." Floyd let a soft, hiccuping sob escape. "Just... this just means a lot to me."

"All I did was bake a cake..." Earl furrowed his eyebrows together, abandoned his wet washcloth on the counter, and gently took Floyd's hands in his own. "Are you okay?"

"I... it's a long story." Floyd wiped his eyes and smiled as best he could at Earl. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to scare you." Pulling his lover into a tight embrace, he didn't think twice about getting covered in flour by proxy. "I love you so much."

Baffled and still a bit alarmed, Earl responded with "Um... I love you too?" as he returned the almost crushing hug. "I'm still kinda confused, though."

"... When I was a kid I only ever got things like this when one of my friends had a birthday party or I slept over at their house on a Friday night. A-and ever since I've always kind of dreamed of getting the fuck out of Denver and having a nice house with a nice guy and just... doing normal domestic shit without getting yelled at or slapped around. Just... things like mowing the yard and baking cookies. Normal everyday things everyone else takes for granted." Floyd tightened his grip on Earl. "And... and the fact that I have that now just... really hit me. I have that nice house away from Denver and I have a nice guy and I do all that normal boring crap and no one yells at me or tells me everything I've done wrong or that I'm worthless." A sob crept out of his throat before he could notice and choke it back. Then another. Then more, followed by a waterfall of tears.

He didn't say anything else. He didn't need to. Earl backed out of the embrace just a bit and reached up to cup Floyd's face in his hands, wiping away tears with the pads of his thumbs. "You never told me any of that before," he whispered. "I... I don't think I'm the nice guy you always wanted, but..."

"You are." Floyd cut Earl off suddenly. "You are the nice guy I always wanted. You're cute and sweet and loyal and you love me more than anything even when I don't love myself..." Another soft sob. "Even when I mess up. Even when I fall off the wagon. You love me. You don't scream at me or call me names or... or leave. Even if you should, because... because I'm not good for you. I'm not good for anyone. You just... you stay. And you make everything hurt less."

"Floyd..." Earl was practically silent. He stood on his toes to reach Floyd's lips and kiss him, with all of the love and tenderness he could muster. "Of course I stay. Of course I love you. And you are good for me." He tucked his head under Floyd's chin. "I'm not sure where you got the idea I'm a good little nice boy, though..."

Floyd, despite himself, chuckled lightly. "Oh, because you're so hardcore?"

"Yeah!" Floyd could hear the half-joking pout in Earl's voice. "I'm tough!"

"Babe, look at yourself and tell me that again."

A pause. "... Okay, maybe I don't look tough, but I am!"

Floyd broke out in genuine laughter at this point. His tears dried and his composure mostly regained, he stepped back from the tight hold Earl had on him, just a bit. "You didn't let me finish. I didn't mention that part of that whole fantasy was getting to absolutely ruin that sweet nice guy."

Earl blushed, almost as red as the cherries that dotted the cake. "You pervert."

"I don't hear you complaining." Floyd smirked and quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah, I wanted a nice, sweet guy who loved me for me. But I wanted a nice, sweet guy I could fuck until he went cross-eyed, too. You're both." Earl blushed again and smiled shyly, but said nothing.

"You want me to show you what I mean?"

"Maybe."

Their clothes left a trail to the bedroom- apron, shirt, another shirt, pants, jeans- halting as the door was shut. Earl's knees buckled just in time to fall back onto the bed, two pairs of hands wandering and exploring, as Floyd stalked atop him like a lion preying on a gazelle. Their cocks, still clothed in underwear, brushed together, and Earl shuddered. "What do you want, doll?" Floyd asked, his voice a husky whisper, as he nipped at Earl's neck gently. "You want me to fuck you like an animal, or you wanna take it easy?"

Earl gasped softly as Floyd's fingers traced the outline of his erection in his underwear. "Nnh... wh-whatever you want. I just... god, Floyd."

"Mm. I was planning on denting the walls tonight," Floyd teased, slipping his fingertips under the elastic waistband of Earl's boxers and delighting in the quiet whimper this got him, "But I think we both wanna take it slow. Hm?"

"Yes... god, yes, please..." Earl arched into Floyd's delicate touch. He could be so [painfully gentle when he wanted. "I love you... I love you so much..." Earl whined softly as the slow, teasing friction on his cock ceased, his hips bucking a bit in a desperate attempt to regain it. "You tease..."

"You like it." Floyd slid his boxers off his hips, down his legs, and tossed them onto the floor unceremoniously. He pressed his hips against Earl's, trembling slightly in the chilly air-conditioned room. He wasn't positive Earl wasn't a polar bear in a previous life. The two of them lay together for a few moments, kissing, touching, relishing the feeling of skin on skin. Floyd's fingers again hooked under Earl's waistband, removing his boxers with little preamble. Earl purred softly and felt himself blush as Floyd's eyes roved over him for a moment.

"What are you staring at...?"

"You. God, you're beautiful." Floyd gently stroked Earl's cock. "You know how pretty your dick is?"

"Says the man with the biggest and most beautiful cock I've ever seen..."

"I'm serious, doll." Floyd pressed a kiss to Earl's lips. "It's pretty. Nice and fat." He traced the underside with one fingertip as Earl gasped softly. "And it curves. Y'know how much some guys would kill for this?" Floyd's kisses trailed from Earl's lips to his jaw, then his neck, then his chest. "There are men out there who'd give anything to be with you." Down Earl's stomach. Floyd couldn't hold back a smile when Earl giggled softly at the apparently-tickly touch. "But y'know something? Anything they could give-" a gentle kiss to Earl's pubic bone- "wouldn't be enough-" gently nudging Earl's knees up and apart a bit further- "to make me give you up-" a long stripe licked up the length of Earl's twitching cock- "not ever."

And then Floyd took Earl into his mouth, and Earl swore he saw stars. He gasped and tangled his fingers in Floyd's hair only to be unceremoniously batted away. Earl gripped the sheets for some form of purchase, eyes fluttering shut behind foggy glasses and a peachy-pink flush rising on his chest and face already. He'd never even considered being on the receiving end of a blowjob; he was so used to giving them (and, he had to admit, so godawful turned on by giving them) that the concept of Floyd actually reversing the roles hadn't come to mind at all.

Then again, was he really reversing roles? Any time Earl tried to touch him, guide him at all, he'd receive the most serious glare from someone with a dick in their mouth he'd ever seen and have his hands either pinned at his sides or waved off. The fourth time he tried it, Floyd growled around him and dragged his teeth along Earl's cock. Whether it was a warning or a slip-up, Earl wasn't sure, nor did he care; the slight sting and the sudden acknowledgement that Floyd could just bite down whenever he wanted, if he wanted, and cause some very serious pain was enough to send fire through his nerve endings. Sure, he knew Floyd wouldn't ever hurt him, not on purpose (or at least, not more than Earl begged him to), but holy hell, was the thought hot.

The warm wet suction on his dick suddenly retreated and Earl felt himself crash back to Earth. He whined and bucked again until he caught sight of Floyd sucking two fingers, slicking them with saliva, though not especially clearly. Even if his glasses hadn't slid down his nose, they were fogged to the point of uselessness anyway. He gasped and swore as Floyd's digits, with perfected precision, slid into him. Earl pulled his glasses off and put them to the side, gasping and panting as Floyd worked him open, gently and slowly. "Floyd, god, please, I need you..."

"Be patient," Floyd mumbled, kissing Earl's knee gently. "I don't want to hurt you." After what felt like an eternity and a half of torture (but was probably more like 10 minutes), Floyd finally withdrew his fingers, grabbed the lube from the nightstand, slicked his dick, and nudged the head against Earl's entrance. "Yes?"

"Yes!" Earl whimpered and shifted his position slightly, his ankles on Floyd's shoulders. "Please, god, please!" Floyd smiled a little and steadied his cock as he pressed in, slow, gentle, steady. They both let out soft moans, in unison, as Floyd pushed in as deep as he could go, little tremors running through Earl's limbs and Floyd's breathing getting just a touch more erratic and excited.

Earl bit his lip and sighed softly as Floyd thrust into him, once, twice, then settled into a steady rhythm. They were nearly silent at first, soft gasps and sighs and groans and whimpers echoing as their hips met, gently, lightly. Over time, Floyd's thrusts slowly grew faster and deeper, harder. He grunted with effort as he lowered himself over Earl's body, their lips meeting and tongues dancing briefly before Earl let himself relax and submit to Floyd's tongue exploring his mouth. Earl tangled one hand into Floyd's hair and let the other trail down his back, gently tracing over Floyd's opening. Floyd snarled and his hips bucked outside of the rhythm of his thrusts, deep and sharp, and Earl yelped softly in surprise and pleasure.

"Shit... did I hurt you...?" Floyd asked between pants, stilling his thrusts. Earl groaned and shook his head, whimpering.

"Do it again... please, Floyd..." Earl bit his lip and rocked his hips back against Floyd's desperately. "Please."

How was he supposed to say no to a request like that? Floyd began thrusting again, deeper, faster, and Earl howled, his head tipping back. God, that was hot!

Their voices rose and mingled in the dim evening light of their bedroom, hands tangled in hair and sheets and nails leaving reddish crescents in skin. Floyd snarled and thrust in as deep as possible, panting softly, and hissed, "Where do you want it?"

Earl wasted no time in his response. "In me," he gasped, gripping Floyd's shoulders hard. "Please, Floyd, inside me!"

In response, Floyd growled, let out a long groan, shoved his cock into Earl and stilled. He panted and shuddered as he came hard, and somewhere a million miles away he felt Earl contract around him and heard him groan his name as he came as well.

For a brief moment, they lay like that, trembling and exhausted, before Floyd pulled out slowly (god, the little groan of disappointment that came out of Earl was so hot) and lay beside his boyfriend, panting.

"So..." Earl began, a drowsy smile on his face, "You enjoy wrecking a nice boy that bakes for you?"

"You know I did." Floyd smiled back and kissed Earl's forehead gently. "You enjoy getting wrecked by a big scary bad boy?"

"You know I did," Earl echoed Floyd's words as he curled in close to him. "Mmm. You're pretty great. No matter what you think of yourself."

"... Thanks, doll." Floyd kissed the top of Earl's head, then paused. "... You still have flour in your hair."

"Oh." Earl giggled softly. "Um... guess I should probably go shower, huh."

"Probably wouldn't hurt."


End file.
